


And Kirk Loves Comics

by MisterBroflovski



Category: Metallica
Genre: Addiction, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Friendship, Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterBroflovski/pseuds/MisterBroflovski
Summary: During the "Damaged Justice" Tour, Kirk Hammett battled a short-lived cocaine addiction; short-lived, thanks to one James Alan Hetfield.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If drug use or drug addiction make you uncomfortable, do not read this story. Otherwise, enjoy. Note: This is a one-shot story. If anyone would like for me to turn it into something bigger and more in-depth, please let me know and I will do my best!

James and Lars and Jason already knew. They'd already seen everything they had to see, and they accepted it as fact. 

They accepted it as cold hard truth of the metal scene of Los Angeles. 

It was just...a thing that happened. 

Never did any of them expect it to happen to their dear little Kirk Hammett, but it did, and there was nothing they could do. They weren't even quite sure why, and Kirk sure as hell wasn't going to spill. Admittedly, And Justice For All was an emotionally damaging recording process and a distant one at that. The tour had begun and they weren't as distant anymore. But relationships between James and the other band members were growing ever tenser. Maybe Kirk just hated to see his family in such a condition. 

Maybe it was their fault. 

Maybe it was their fault when Lars peeked through a crack in a doorway backstage in a venue and Kirk was surrounded by people he didn't recognize and they were gathered around Kirk's guitar case and there were little mirrors and baggies of cocaine and stacks of cash scattered around pointlessly...

Maybe it was their fault when James' sleep was interrupted by the shrill sound of shattering glass, and when he walked out of the bedroom bunk on the bus and Kirk stood with one hand over his face and his other hand hanging unsteadily in the air and directly a few feet across from him there lay a splatter of beer on the wall and a pile of broken, dark glass on the floor. 

When James asked what his problem was, Kirk only responded with a few curse words and slid down the wall opposite the spill until he was hugging his own knees. 

That night Kirk just fell asleep in that position on the floor. James cleaned up the glass and the wall. Jason and Lars only confronted the scene after James made the announcement that Kirk was asleep. They didn't say anything after that; it wasn't necessary. They saw the cocaine on the table on top of a little mirror. 

\-----------------------------------

"It's that fuckin' slut of his. It's her, he never even considered shit like that before he met her."

Lars pressed the bottle against his lips and tilted his head back, to pour every last bit of that ale down his throat before he had to work on a fresh bottle. 

"He's not even with her anymore, Lars. She dropped him."

James sat on the same couch as Jason, who hadn't said a word. He had many thoughts and opinions, but none he was willing to share. 

Lars was sitting in the chair to their right. They were all in the tour bus for the overnight trip, for what was supposed to be a relaxing evening. But Kirk wasn't there. His body maybe, but his mind? Absent. Things had been going so fine all day; they played a show and it went shockingly well. It was going so fine. Kirk wasn't high. He didn't act like he wanted to be high either, and it lead the three on, that maybe this wasn't as serious as they'd feared. Kirk was normal, Kirk was normal just like he had been for five years already. 

But oh no. The second Kirk set all of his things down on the bus he locked himself in the bathroom. And they didn't do anything but give each other a look. 

Kirk had been in the bathroom for an hour. 

"Kirk?"

James would call out, every ten minutes or so, and each time he got a reply. 

"Yep, hold on, hold on."

Finally, after the sixth time Kirk gave him essentially the same empty reply, James cracked. 

"I've been holding on for a fucking hour, Kirk. Get out of the fuckin' bathroom."

Lars and Jason were silent. 

"Just--one...one second..."

They all watched the door. Light from the TV danced all across it. 

A few more minutes passed and the door never budged. They sat, still watching. 

Finally, the noise of the doorknob being toggled was heard, and three hearts stopped at once. 

The door opened, but no light spilled out. He'd been locked in there in the dark. 

They couldn't quite see Kirk's face but they could tell something was wrong...

Kirk wiped a hand across his nose and mouth and a trail of blood was left on his hand afterward. 

"Shit, Kirk..."

"I'm fine, James. It fought with me, a little. But I'm fine. It's just a nosebleed."

Lars couldn't take his eyes away and Jason couldn't force himself to look. 

Kirk's hands were jittery. 

"I think you should go lay down, Kirk."

"No, I'm good."

Kirk tossed himself into the couch and slouched over. One of his knees was bouncing, quickly, and his left hand fingers were tapping on the arm rest. His right hand was held up against his nose. Lars stared as blood dripped over his hand and onto his pants. 

They all moved so slowly, Kirk thought. He saw James reach and grab a tissue for him and he knew that's what he would do the second he moved but...he was going so goddamn slow. Comedically slow. Like in an improv class. He could see himself moving and it was in real time, and every movement he made was fluid. James was going so, so slow. Why so slow? He snatched the tissue from James and wiped his face carelessly before holding the tissue against his nose. All three of them stared at him and their eyes were even slow. 

"Stop fucking staring at me Lars." 

Lars had meant for his gaze to dart away quick but Kirk saw slow motion. 

"Fuck! Quit moving like that. It's freaking me out."

So slow. So slow. 

"Who are you even trying to impress, Kirk?!" Lars spat, but James put a hand on his knee and quieted him down. Kirk didn't even notice he'd snapped at him. He was too busy focusing on how slow his lips were moving and how much it pissed him off that they weren't listening. 

"Why are you going so slow? So slow..." 

Kirk shifted in his seat and brought his feet up. They weren't staring anymore, not at him, at least. Kirk began to rock back and forth, gently. 

\-----------------------------------

What a fantastic show. The day got off to an awful start, but a great show. 

James had to wake up Kirk after he'd passed out on the couch. He still had blood on his mouth and crumpled, bloody tissues littered his chest. 

"Fuck, dude. Wake up...for the love of God, wake up."

Kirk jolted awake and his fingernails dug into the upholstery. Waking up so suddenly made it feel like he was falling. 

But he was caught by James, whose hands were on his shoulders. 

"Are you okay?" He heard James' voice wonder. He could feel his breath on his skin. While Kirk's eyes hadn't quite adjusted enough to see James, he could hear him and feel him. What a relief it was. 

Kirk was having a nightmare. James coaxed him out if it. 

He was having a nightmare that the people he was getting his Coke from found Lars, and Lars owed them money. 

They hurt him. 

His dream wasn't realistic, nor did it make any sense. But all he saw was Lars lying in the ground, holding his ribs, covered in his own blood. 

The contents of the nightmare flooded back into Kirk's mind and his breath became shaky. He threw himself against James and held him close, burying his face into the crook of his neck. 

"Hey--hey, what? What's the matter?" 

Kirk didn't answer but his quivering hands dug their nails into James' back, as if they were trying to prevent him from leaving. James may have been crouched on his toes but he was able to hug Kirk back until his grip wasn't quite so painful. 

"What's the matter?" James repeated. 

All Kirk said was, "Is Lars okay?" But it was muffled by James' shoulder. "Yeah, Lars is fine, what happened?"

"Nothing-...I just..." Kirk let go. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

\-----------------------------------

Hours later, the show went flawlessly. And the crowd was participating. The stage set was arranged; what a badass show it really was. James and Kirk even shared little moments of playing back to back, and Kirk and Jason thrusted against one another until their bass and guitar clanged. They always did dumb shit like that. And everyone was all smiles. 

That's what made it hurt so bad when they couldn't find Kirk after the show. 

That is, until they could all hear Kirk's voice spilling out of a dressing room that didn't belong to him. 

They were discussing how much it would cost for Kirk to get a fix to hold him over for the night. 

The voice that responded was a females. And she said,

"Maybe you shouldn't pay with your cash, you worked hard for it."

And then the door shut. 

Jason and Lars were pretty far away from that dressing room, but it was in their direct line of sight. They looked at each other with concern and disgust written into their faces. 

"Is he seriously about to fuck a chick for Coke? Who was that chick? Who was she, Jason?!"

Jason shook his head and told him he didn't know. He hadn't got a look of her face when the door had been open. Lars and Jason stood up and sneaked toward the door to hear what was going on inside. They didn't get too close, however, out of fear that they'd alert the two inside. 

If it was even two. It could've been more. 

Inside, Kirk was hunched over a table with one hand on the glass and the other holding a straw fragment against his nose. The girl had her fingers tangled in Kirk's hair and she dragged him along the line until she didn't see a single stray grain. 

Kirk threw himself back and groaned, pressing his palm onto his eye. He made a face displaying pain but the girl only laughed and shoved him to the floor. Kirk hardly remembered anything that the girl forced on him for the mere twenty minutes they were in there, all he could remember was her getting a line after him and seeing her naked minutes later. He couldn't remember what he did, or what she did, but all he knew was that, she didn't let him come. 

And she was gone now, and Kirk blinked away the blur in his eyes and got to his feet. The door was still shut and not a single article of his clothing was gone. He was fully clothed, and fully hard. Kirk knelt against the table and checked himself in the little mirror. There wasn't any sign of Coke on his face, so, he decided to clean up and meet his bandmates, wherever they might be. Sure, he wanted to come so bad that he was dizzy and his tight pants didn't exactly hide anything, but he could always hide it. 

He scrambled out of his shirt and tied it around his waist, after undoing his button and zipper. 

He could breathe now, but the sweat that rolled down his chest and the quickened pounding that happened inside of it was driving him crazy. 

He found Lars, Jason and James sitting together at a table, and there was a ton of catering and a ton of roadies and equipment handlers and other crew members eating with them. 

James caught Kirk's attention first. 

He was sitting at one of the tables with a half empty beer in his hand, and he was wearing nothing but his undone jeans. His hair was dampened with sweat and the second Kirk looked at him...his face split into his huge smile. No, James didn't notice Kirk standing there, but Kirk saw that smile. And it drew him in. 

Kirk intervened in the conversation and sat atop James' lap. That wasn't so out of the ordinary though. Kirk gave a smile to the people across from James at the table, and they returned it. 

"Where've you been?" James wondered, looking up at his new lap accessory. Kirk responded with, "Nowhere," with the tone of childlike suspicion. He grabbed James' beer and took a sip from it himself. 

James continued his conversation with the people across from him, but Kirk hardly knew what they were saying. He was more focused on where he was. 

He was settled on top of one of James' legs, and his own thin legs were split on either side. James' arm was around his waist, holding him in place. 

Kirk pretended not to notice that his pants felt tight, even undone as they were. 

He wished those people across the table would fuck off. 

James noticed that the circulation in his legs was beginning to cut off under Kirk's weight. He began to slowly bounce him on his leg, to get his blood flowing again. 

Kirk bit his lip and looked away. 

Fuck, whatever he was doing felt good. And so did that shock that went through his body. 

The people weren't staring at him thank god. But he still felt exposed. 

Lars and Jason weren't even looking. They were by the booth that held all the food. 

So Kirk was lost in thought, alone in his own head. 

Had he not been coked up out of his mind, thinking about something like this would've made him feel gross. 

Really gross. 

But that didn't matter. He still wanted to come, so bad that his own legs were shaking around James'. James could feel that, he knew he could. He knew because James' hand was on his hip now, trying to get him to calm down. 

Kirk, for whatever reason, liked the feeling of James' hand on his hip, and he wanted to feel the other hand on his other hip right in that goddamn moment. He didn't care that he'd gotten hard because of a girl. He didn't care that he no longer wanted a girl to fix it, either. 

He wanted James to fix it. Just James. He was sure that James wasn't willing to. But it didn't stop him from wanting. And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try and get to that point. 

James was still slowly, gently bouncing him on his lap throughout his thought. Kirk only got hungrier and hungrier. 

Lars and Jason had been chatting up a couple of girls all while Kirk planned out his lust after James. They hadn't even noticed that Kirk left his seclusion either. And it was a good thing for Kirk, because now he was going to be able get James unnoticed. 

Maybe. 

While they were piling everything back into the bus, Kirk had almost fallen or toppled over, because every ounce of blood in his body had cycled into his dick. 

If he didn't fix this soon he was going to be pissed and exhausted, and was probably going to need another hit. 

Wait...

Another hit...

The tires of the bus skidded against the road as it began to drive away from the venue. 

Any attention Kirk might have been paying to his dick immediately diverted to the fact that he hadn't taken any goods with him onto the bus. Which meant he was bone dry for the rest of the tour. 

"Fuck-" Kirk exclaimed, as he brought a hand up to his mouth and began to nibble on his finger. "Fuck." 

"Kirk?"

"Fuck!"

Kirk threw himself off of the couch and paced into the bathroom, quickly locking himself behind its door. 

"Fuck!"

His exclamations only grew louder and louder. The bus silenced. A fist was thrown onto the door and it vibrated within its frame. Then another fist. 

"Kirk, calm down, what's your fuckin' problem dude?"

Lars knelt beside the door and pressed his ear to it. He only heard shaky breath on the other side. 

"Fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck..."

The obscenities quieted down until they were nothing more than a whisper. Then, a whimper. 

Lars scrambled away as the door suddenly began to open. 

"James, tell him to turn the bus around-" 

"What? Why?"

"It's still there James it's still...it's still there!" Kirk's voice cracked and out of the embarrassment, he began to nibble on his finger again. 

"What is?"

"You fucking...you fucking know what! James I don't have any more that's all I...that's all I have...it's all I have and you need to fucking tell him to turn the bus around!"

Lars made the first move to calm Kirk's wild hand movement. He grabbed Kirk by the shoulders and looked him in the eye, staring to get him to focus. Kirk refused, and pushed Lars away. Lars stumbled and stood dumbfounded, aimed in Kirk's direction. 

Jason didn't move. Neither did James, but Kirk's eyes were affixed on him. 

"James please-I'm begging you to talk to the driver."

"Kirk, you don't fucking need that shit, you know you don't need that shit." 

"Stop fuckin' starin' at me Lars!" 

Lars cursed his name and stomped out of the area, and into the bunk room. He slammed the door and the blood in Kirk's brain seemed to flow louder. He winced. His widened eyes darted towards Jason, who quickly hung his head, and followed Lars into the bunk room. Now he and James were the only ones involved in the conversation. 

"Quit snapping at him." 

"He's making me feel like a fucking psycho..."

"And that's what you're fucking acting like, Hammett!"

"Don't even fucking start with me, man!" 

Kirk fell into the couch across from James and covered his face. His leg was bouncing again. The sound of a heavy beer bottle clinking against the table caused Kirk's shoulders to tense.

"Do you have to be making so much fucking noise with that?"

"Kirk, stop it. You're acting like an asshole."

"Just talk to the fucking bus driver! Just fucking talk to him, James!" 

"This is exactly why you don't need that shit!"

Kirk hadn't looked away from his palm, and his voice was getting shakier and more edged. James strained his eyes to study his expression in the dark, and with less than a surprise, he noticed Kirk had began to cry in frustration. 

He saw his teeth and his dimples and his eyebrows pulled down in a harsh frown. Kirk never had a cry that was easy on the eyes. The pain was written into his face. 

"If I don't get it I'm going to lose my shit..."

"You're already losing your shit."

James' voice was gentler than before. The tears dampening Kirk's face and hands softened him. 

"Give me your beer."

"I think you should just get some sleep, dude."

"Give me the beer."

"Cut it out."

"James, I fucking-"

Kirk practically leapt from the couch in the direction of the table, but James stood before him and pushed him back. 

Kirk's lips parted in shock. James didn't have intention of hurting him, did he?

"Get to the bunk Kirk."

"Give me the fucking beer so help me God-"

Kirk threw himself in the direction of the bottle again, and both of James' hands landed on his shoulders. He wouldn't let go. Kirk began to squirm for freedom from his grip, and was granted nothing of the sort. 

"Let me go god dammit! Let go of me!"

Kirk's hands pushed into the dead middle of James' chest but he didn't let go. Instead he wrapped both of his arms around Kirk's frame and held him against his chest. Kirk was thrashing to try his luck at escape again, and with his frustration growing ever stronger, the crying worsened. And there he was. There was the embodiment of his addiction. 

Kirk was sobbing by now, with his face against James' chest and his hands shoving him into the table. He heard the glass of the bottle crash to the ground with a shrill noise, and the table itself crack against the wall. James' tailbone was driven into the edge and he grunted, as he staggered. Kirk's shoes have way underneath him and slipped, and they both crashed to the floor. 

James was the first to recollect himself as he wrapped both of his arms around Kirk's chest and neck from behind. He was yelling, and crying and thrashing and kicking and scratching at James' arms until he finally went still. 

His hands gripped James' forearms. Tightly, like he was afraid. He was afraid. He was crying against James now, pathetic as it may have felt, he knew there was a problem, and he knew James was only trying to fix it. 

There was a problem. 

In between loud inhaling and shaky exhaling, Kirk managed to choke out, "I'm so sorry James, I'm so sorry," and James didn't say a word. He just held him against his chest, between his legs. He held him until he stopped crying. The act was no longer to restrict him, but it was a tight enough hug to make him feel safe. 

Kirk had an addiction. And it was a dangerous one. James may have been pissed but his fear overruled the anger, and he was going to do absolutely anything in his power to make sure he didn't lose another brother. 

"You need to stop. This isn't even...this is fucked up, Kirk..."

"I'm sorry..", he whined. 

"Don't be sorry...just..do me a favor."

Kirk didn't answer. It was James' cue to continue. 

"Don't ever snort anything ever again." 

"James..."

"I'm dead serious. I'm serious Kirk I don't-"

James caught himself and quieted down. He was sure Lars and Jason were listening, especially after Kirk's screaming, and the glass. 

"I'm not losing another brother. Do you fucking understand me?"

James' voice was muffled by his own face. His chin was now resting on top of Kirk's head, which limited the amount of movement he could make while speaking. It made him sound that much more serious, speaking through his teeth. 

"Yes."

"I don't fucking believe you," James' voice began to waver. 

"Tell me exactly what I just said."

Kirk's fingers pressed into James' arm even further and he cried louder than before, shaking, violently. James' hold on him tightened. 

"You said you're not losing another brother.." he yelped, as he hid his face the best he could from the light of the television. James didn't say anything else until Kirk's crying concluded again. 

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't, I'm okay.."

James' arms finally unwrapped themselves from around Kirk's bust and they were both free to move on their own. James knelt by the table surrounded by broken glass and picked a few of the larger shards up by hand. Kirk watched with guilt building itself up in his gut. He still felt that withdrawal alongside it, and he felt truly empty and low without his blow. 

But it's not what James wanted. And even if it sounded pathetic, Kirk was pretty obedient to James. Not dissimilar to the way James was obedient to Lars. 

"I'll clean it up," Kirk squeaked, nothing but sheer weakness in his already mousey voice. 

James gave him a look that Kirk couldn't read. "No, I got it. I think you need to go to bed." 

Kirk stood still with his hand on his elbow across his chest. He was waiting for James to come back from throwing away the glass, so he could throw himself onto him again. And sure enough he returned, sticky handed, and Kirk threw his arms around the build of the taller man. 

James placed a hand on the back of Kirk's head and pulled him closer. 

"I'm sorry James. I'm sorry I put you through that. I didn't realize it hurt you...it just hurt me and I was okay with that...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Still holding his guitarist, James sighed. 

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay, you hear me?"

They were running around in circles now. 

"I do.."

"Go get in the bunk, alright? It's really late and you're getting weird."

Kirk let off a weak giggle and smiled. 

James felt a little less crushed. 

Kirk excused himself to the bunk room while James was cleaning up the mess in the main living space of the bus. 

He couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself as he watched Kirk kick off his pants and scramble into the hole in the wall like a child. He hadn't looked so childlike in months, since before they'd released "...And Justice For All", since before that girl backstage introduced him to the drug. 

He saw the curtain close around the bunk, and that was James' cue to get in there too. He tossed the rest of the glass into a trash can, and wiped his hands on his pants before scrambling out of them and shutting off the tv. 

He shut the door and climbed into his own bunk, above Lars and across from Kirk. 

"Goodnight James," said Kirk, sleepy and groggy from crying. 

"Goodnight Kirk.." said James, as the rings of the curtain scraped against the bar. 

About fifteen minutes later, James was lying awake, stuck in his own fear about the damage the Coke could've already done to his precious guitarist, when he was shot away by the sound of a tap light. 

He opened an eye and looked across from him, and saw a dim light from the other side of Kirk's curtain. 

The silhouette of Kirk, his head propped up by the pillows, and his hands around a comic book.


End file.
